


Better Half

by kimposibl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain, Soul Bond, Wing Kink, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:50:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimposibl/pseuds/kimposibl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam calls Castiel after he finally captures his brother. </p>
<p>Ignores most of season 10 after the first couple of episodes. Spoilers ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Half

 

Castiel gets to Sam as quickly as he can. He’s been feeling more and more tired lately, and he knows he doesn’t have much time left. Even if he didn’t have strong indicators of his mortality, the worrying looks Hannah sends him would be enough to imply how obvious his failing health is. He doesn’t worry about that right now. Heaven has been reestablished. Metatron is behind bars for good (for now). His main concern now is getting to Dean.

 

Hannah hasn’t voiced her opinion of this yet, but Castiel knows how much she disapproves of Dean Winchester. He chose him over her and the other angels. He wonders if she knows what’s in his heart, this yearning that he feels. It hasn’t gotten better with his impending death despite the fact that he’s accepted it. During his time separate from the Winchesters, he considered the possibility that he’d never see Dean again. Sam prayed to him every night after Dean’s sudden disappearance until Castiel was able to show up at the bunker, weak and wrecked after having heard from Metatron that he killed him. After mourning his failed task, Castiel decided to let Sam deal with Dean while he holed himself up in solitude, resolute to find peace.

 

The news that Dean is now a demon, the Mark having transformed him, has Castiel at a completely loss. It is better to think Dean dead than having become a knight of hell, but a part of him is elated with the chance to see him again. Granted, Castiel always found the heat and color of Dean’s soul his best attribute, and it’d be missing, but the possibility that it could still be there, a faint light admist the darkness, gives him hope. He won’t know for sure until he sees him though.

 

His chest aches with the thought.

 

“We’re about a few hours away from Lebanon,” Hannah says when Castiel finally stirs. He’s got an awful crick in his neck from sleeping in the passenger seat, but he doesn’t want to sprawl out in the back in case Hannah needs him. Besides, she’s not his chauffer. She’s been his friend and confidant in his time of dwindling grace.

 

“Thank you, Hannah.” He stretches and his joints pop. A cough bursts through his lungs, and the fit doesn’t stop for a few minutes. Hannah, alarmed, pulls over to the side of the interstate. Castiel opens his door, the cool early chill of autumn rushing over him. He takes big, deep breaths. The coughing slows and eventually stops.

 

“Castiel,” she tries tentatively. “About what Metatron said….”

 

“You’ve been very generous, Hannah,” he says not unkindly, “but maybe you should check in with Heaven. I can make the rest of the drive myself.”

 

Her door opens and she walks around the car to crouch in front of him, her blue eyes large and clear in the dawning light.

 

“Please consider it, Castiel,” she says quietly, pleadingly. “I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

 

“Hannah,” he starts, a weariness overcoming him. She senses this and eases back. She can’t provide him comfort, but her grace touches him, lessening the fatigue that settled in his bones about a week ago.

 

“I’ll see you again soon,” she says, standing. “Take care of yourself, Castiel.”

 

“You too, Hannah.” She leaves with a soft flutter of wings. Castiel can barely feel the weight of his own, frail and skeletal as they are now.

 

He stands and stretches more to ease the ache of his body. He catches sight of the sunrise just over the horizon across the wheat field. It paints the skies in pinks and blues, and he watches as the sun crests, chasing the darkness away. He can feel the light on his face before it touches him. Angels answer prayers, not make them, but he whispers one softly in Enochian to the star.

 

\--

 

Sam looks worse than when Castiel last saw him, and he gets the sense that they both size each other up, wondering who looks more like shit. Eventually, Sam pats him on the arm, a wan smile on his face.

 

“Damn good to see you, Cas.”

 

Castiel was feeling tired in the last third of the trip here, but he’s suddenly wide awake, eager to see Dean. “You too, Sam.” Sam looks like he’s been beaten around a bit, and fears that it might have been Dean. It just goes to show how much of their Dean is lost to the Mark.

 

“How’s your shoulder?”

 

“Better. Well, I haven’t really been taking it as easy as I should.” They share a smile.

 

“I’m not really surprised.”

 

They start towards the dungeon but Sam stops and turns towards him, worried. “Cas, I gotta warn you. Dean, he’s different. Maybe it’s the Mark but I dunno. The things he said….” A pained expression crosses his face.

 

“Its not him, Sam,” Castiel reiterates. “Whatever he says, whatever he does, that’s not Dean. You know Dean. He loves you more than anything.”

 

“I-I know,” Sam chokes out. “It’s just so hard.”

 

Castiel nods sympathetically, touching his elbow gently. He wishes he could heal Sam’s shoulder, but he can’t even heal himself. “We’ll get him back,” he says with more conviction than he feels. It must be enough for Sam because he nods and flashes him a smile. Castiel can’t help but smile back.

 

As they get closer to the dungeon, Dean says, “Really, Sam? A crippled angel?”

 

The doors are open. Castiel peers into it and his heart seizes in his chest. Dean looks completely different. His soul is warped, mutilated, and completely devoid of light. The sight of it constricts Castiel’s chest, and he has to lean against the wall as he catches his breath. It’s not about looking at something evil; Castiel’s seen much worse. It’s like witnessing Dean dying all over again. Sam is by his side in an instant.

 

“Cas? Cas, are you okay?” Sam asks, trying to support him with an arm around his.

 

Dean is laughing.

 

“I’m… I’m fine.” He’s nauseous and there’s a sting of bile at the back of his throat. He tries to take deep breaths, but he all he can taste is sulfur in the air.

 

The Mark has completely consumed Dean. Whatever hope Castiel had of recovering Dean is squashed. Even if Sam is somehow capable of reversing the curse, if there is even a cure, he fears that the damage may be permanent.

 

He tries to focus on breathing instead of mourning the loss of Dean’s soul. His eyes are burning, but he’s not sure if its because of the bile threatening to come out or sorrow.

 

Eventually, after a good ten minutes, Castiel is able to follow Sam into the dungeon. The disfigured manifestation which used to be Dean is bound to the chair. The darkness in the husk of his body seems to suck out all of the light in the room, like a black hole. Castiel stands at the entrance, unable to step farther inside.

 

“What’s wrong, Cas? Can’t stand to look at me?” Dean taunts, his black eyes alighting on the angel. “Miss your Righteous Man?”

 

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam says quietly, but firmly. Dean laughs.

 

“Or what, Sammy?”

 

Warring emotions flit across his face. Castiel knows it’s taking all of Sam’s self-control not to do something to hurt Dean, to remember that the man sitting in front of him is not his brother and that he shouldn’t let the words get to him.

 

“Or I’ll gag you, you son of a bitch.”

 

“Hey, don’t call our mommy that.”

 

“You’re not my brother,” Sam says. Dean smirks.

 

“Stop saying that when it’s convenient for you.”

 

“Enough,” Castiel says. He can’t stand it when Sam and Dean fight. He’s witnessed a few of their bad ones in the past, and although he’s always sided with Dean, that didn’t mean he agreed  with him completely. The brothers have always tried to do what was best for each other even if it led to dire consequences.

 

“You can’t be throwing your weight around, angel,” Dean intones smugly. “Why are you even here? You’re a useless, mindless bird with clipped wings trying to play human. None of this would have happened if you’d stayed in line.”

 

It hurts because Castiel thinks about that often. If he hadn’t gotten too close to the human in his charge, if he hadn’t started _feeling_ or _thinking_ or _wanting_ then none of this would have happened. Free will, whatever that is, is a rope with which one hangs themselves. Castiel already came to that conclusion a couple years ago when he’d taken in too much power without assuming the responsibility of it, and many humans and creatures died because of it. He doesn’t blame Dean, though. He blames his own arrogance. He thought he could carry the weight of heaven on his shoulders.

 

“Hey, don’t let him get to you,” Sam says, standing in his line of sight and gently touching him. The weight and firmness of his hand ground Castiel momentarily. Castiel looks up at him and suddenly feels pathetic. He’s supposed to be helping Sam through this, but Sam, once again, is the tenuous thread trying to hold them all together.

 

“Thanks, Sam,” he says in relief.

 

“Way to ruin the fun, you giant girl,” Dean grouses behind him. Sam clenches his jaw then spins around. He heads over to a shelf and pulls out a half gallon jug of water with a rosary inside. Dean’s smile fades when Sam approaches him with it and douses him with a good amount of holy water. It sizzles on Dean’s skin as Dean flails uselessly and growls in pain.

 

“You’re not the only Winchester with experience in torture,” Sam threatens. Dean glares up at him, his skin slowly reforming itself over the burns. “Don’t test me, Dean.”

 

Dean’s expression slowly fades into a smile. “Oh Sammy, when I get out of these, we are going to have so much fun. I’m going to enjoy ripping you apart.”

 

“Keep dreaming, asshole.” Sam hits him again with holy water for good measure. Dean’s growl is low and dangerous. Sam puts the holy water away and walks out.

 

“Such a drama queen,” Dean says. He turns his gaze to Castiel and appraises him. Castiel stiffens. “You should stick around after. I’d like to play with an angel again.”

 

Castiel feels a spike of anger and jealousy. “Don’t talk about Anna like that.”

 

“She felt heavenly. Literally. I’d like to come all over those burnt wings of yours.” Castiel can’t take anymore of this and walks away, the sound of Dean’s laughter following him.

 

“We have to do something,” Castiel says when he finds Sam sitting in the library, his head in his hands. Sam looks at him and nods, but he looks lost. His eyes are red and his skin is pale and he looks like he hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks. Castiel isn’t hungry, but he rummages around in the kitchen for what food is in stock but ends up making coffee when he couldn’t find anything Sam would find desirable (there are a ton of frozen burritos, though). He rejoins Sam nearly fifteen minutes later with two mugs of coffee. Sam stares at his when Castiel places it on the table.

 

“Do you think we can get him back?” Sam asks quietly. Castiel honestly doesn’t know. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to lie. Constantly lying to each other is part of the problem.

 

“I’m not sure,” he ventures instead. “His soul is unrecognizable. I can’t see anything of his former self.”

 

“Maybe we could cure him. Like how I almost cured Crowley.”

 

“It’s a good option, although my main concern is the Mark. Is it possible to talk to Crowley?” Castiel takes a sip of his coffee. It sends warmth coursing through him. As a human, he enjoyed the beverage, though not as much as others, perhaps. Still, the taste is pleasant. Sam probably chose the blend.

 

“We left at an impasse. I’d hate to owe him any favors but if it’ll save Dean….”

 

“Crowley would know. It’s no coincidence those two were together all this time. I can try to find more information from heaven, but that will be more slow-going, and I honestly don’t have much time left.”

 

Sam’s expression turns sympathetic. “I’m so sorry, Cas. You have your own crap to deal with and now Dean’s gone and dug himself into another hole and you have to bail him out again.”

 

“This is possibly more taxing than pulling him from hell,” Castiel agrees. Sam lets out a huff of laughter.

 

“How much more time?” Sam asks.

 

“A couple weeks at the outset. Maybe a little less.” Castiel feels like he only has days, really.

 

“Is there nothing you can do? I hate to say this, but we can’t do this without you. I mean, I don’t want to make you feel obligated to stay. You seem like you’ve already accepted this, but I’d hate to see you go, Cas. You’re like family and we’ve lost so many people already….” Sam resumes staring at his coffee.

 

“Well, there’s one thing, but its not an option.”

 

Sam immediately perks up at this. “No, that’s great. What is it?”

 

“Metatron.” At that one word, Sam’s expression darkens. “He says there’s enough of my Grace left from his spell to restore me. Of course, he wants to make an exchange.”

 

Sam shakes his head, looking torn. “You’re right. It’s not an option.” Castiel has always appreciated Sam’s quiet strength, his inclination towards the right, logical path. It’s cold and calculated, devoid of sentiment. Dean is the opposite, unyielding and steadfast to the course that results in the lowest number of sacrifices even if it increases their chance for failure; Sam is willing to make sacrifices. Their dynamic brings them somewhere in the middle, but Castiel knows that when it really matters, Dean’s selfishness takes them down the difficult path. Dean wouldn’t sacrifice eleven hundred people to keep one the 66 Seals closed. He wouldn’t sacrifice his brother to close the Gates of Hell for good.

 

Castiel wonders what Dean would say about his situation, if Metatron’s freedom is worth his life. At the same time, he understands that he doesn’t mean as much to him as Sam does.

 

“I should try to cure him, though,” Sam says after a pause. “Its our only real option, so we have to make it work.”

 

“Do you want me…?”

 

“No, no. You’re weak as it is. I’ll go prepare.” Sam takes a gulp of the coffee. “Please watch him. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He grabs the keys to the Impala from the table.

 

Castiel watches him leave. He’s exhausted, but he knows better than to leave Dean unattended for long. The coffee helped at least. He takes a chair with him to the dungeon.

 

Dean looks up with an amused smile as Castiel plants the chair by the table in of the room. He sits and feels a coughing fit about to start, but he tamps it down the best he can. He feels ashamed of his weakness all of a sudden.

 

“Back for more?” Dean asks. The truth is, the darkness in Dean’s soul is stifling. Castiel can barely stand to stay in the room with him.

 

“You shouldn’t be left unattended.”

 

“So it learns from its mistakes.” Dean leans back and stretches his back a bit, rolling his shoulders. Castiel licks his lips. “Well, except you’re not avoiding my abuse, unless you want it.”

 

“There’s still more holy water,” Castiel threatens. Dean’s smile widens.

 

“I’d like that, Cas. You should torture me. You’ve kicked my ass a few times, so I know you have it in you.”

 

“Stop, Dean.”

 

“One thing I never figured out is why you stayed.” Dean tilts his head up towards the light. “You can’t be that attached to me, can you?”

 

Castiel doesn’t like where this is going, but he’ll be damned if he tries to shut him up and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t. Either way, his fixation on Dean is going to be had, and it’s not a conversation Castiel has the energy for right now. Or ever. He already accepted that Dean will never know about it, whatever ‘it’ is. The emotions he mentioned to Hannah – sorrow, joy, love – he has felt them in every capacity concerning Dean Winchester. It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment he felt anything at all other than obedience and cold indifference. Maybe it happened when his Grace first touched Dean’s soul. Castiel remembers the brightness of it even in the dint of hell. Human souls can withstand centuries of torture before becoming demonic, so there were many bright souls in hell still. However, Castiel knew Dean’s almost immediately. It burned the brightest, the hottest, and Castiel’s only thought at the time was that he needed to get to it before anyone else did. No one gets credit in heaven for accomplishing a mission, but for once in his entire existence, Castiel wanted that one.

 

Dean looks at him. “I can read you, Castiel. Even for me, this is heartbreaking. If you untie me, I can give you what you want.”

 

Castiel meets his gaze with enough intensity to make Dean balk slightly. This abomination isn’t Dean. It’s not even a matter of joining with a demon that’s unappealing. It’s this manipulation of his emotions, pure and genuine, that repels him. It’s not about Dean’s body, of touch and pleasure. It’s about a connection of his Grace with Dean’s soul in a mutual exchange of love and desire. Castiel already knows the entirety of Dean’s body. It’s his soul that has had him

 

“You can’t read me at all,” Castiel says darkly, his anger stilling his trembling hands. He stands and grabs the jug of holy water. Dean watches him with a flicker of fear in his eyes. “I’m sure you know this about yourself, but you’re remarkably easy. If it was sex I wanted, I could’ve had you ages ago.”

 

Dean cranes his neck up to look at him when he steps up to him. He looks defiant and smug but for the tick at the corner of his mouth that reveals his doubt. “Would you rather we make love? I know you’ve thought about it. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

 

Castiel didn’t realize he’s so easy to read. Then again, if his longing and adoration for Dean slip through his mask it’s only because he’s so overwhelmed with them. How do you train yourself to hide emotions you’ve never felt before and from the person to whom they are directed? Apparently, Dean’s noticed all this time and never mentioned it. That fact hurts Castiel, but unrequited love is a part of human nature. He’s just glad Dean didn’t treat him any differently or gloat about it. Until now.

 

“You were beautiful once, Dean,” Castiel murmurs mournfully, standing before him with the holy water. “I loved you.”

 

“’Loved’?” Dean echoes incredulously. He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s ever heard. Castiel watches him carefully. “You can shove ‘love’ straight up your wingless ass. I don’t want it, especially not from _you_.”

 

Castiel upends the jug then and dumps a fair amount of water on the demon’s head. Dean growls and struggles in his bonds, cursing and sputtering as the water burns his flesh.

 

“You motherfucker! I’ll kill you!”

 

“I don’t think you will.” Castiel rights the empty container and gathers enough strength to punch Dean in the mouth. Dean’s head lurches back at the force of it, the crunch of his nose satisfying underneath Castiel’s knuckles. With Dean momentarily stunned, Castiel grabs his jaw and stares into his black eyes. “Insult me like that again, I’ll ruin you.” He releases him roughly. Dean hisses but doesn’t responded.

 

Sam returns a couple hours later to find Castiel sleeping with his head on the table in the dungeon and Dean staring at him with an expression all too familiar. Sam feels a surge of hope, that Dean’s soul isn’t as mutilated as he thinks. He makes his presence known and Dean snaps his attention to him, impassive mask in place. Castiel slowly rouses. There are imprints of his sleeves on the side of his face. Sam places the syringes on the table.

 

“Go get some rest, Cas,” Sam says gently. “Your room is still the same.” Castiel shakes his head.

 

“No, I want to watch.” _I want to see_. Sam understands and nods. He notices the empty jug of holy water and smirks at Dean. Dean scowls.

 

“I bet you deserved that.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Sam laughs. “Castiel, could you make more holy water, please?”

 

“Of course.” Castiel walks over to Dean and takes the jug where he left it, a foot away from his feet. Dean jumps in his seat as if to attack him. Castiel doesn’t flinch. “Down boy,” Castiel says.

 

“I really don’t know who I’m going to carve up first,” Dean growls, straining against the rope binding him. “Both of you are tied at the top of my shit list.” He screams in frustration and struggles. Castiel watches him impassively. Sam is suddenly at Dean’s side, plunging in a syringe filled with blood into his arm. Dean screams again as Sam mutters an incantation then glances at his watch. Castiel watches as the darkness writhes within Dean. He looks at Sam and nods.

 

Castiel walks out with the hope that he’ll get his Dean back successfully.

 

\--

 

Castiel falls asleep between hours one and two. He’s just so tired lately, and he knows its getting worse. When he was travelling with Hannah, he could stay awake with six hours of sleep a night. Lately, its been increasing to ten. Now it looks like he’ll be needing to add in naps as well. When he rejoins Sam, its already been five hours into Dean’s cure. The younger Winchester looks hopeful.

 

“It’s working?” Castiel asks, sitting across from him. Sam pushes a Styrofoam container in his direction. Inside is a burger and fries. “Thank you, Sam.”

 

“No worries, Cas. And yeah, he’s looking promising. Can you take a look?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Castiel finishes the meal, unaware that he’d been that hungry all this time. He follows Sam back to the dungeon. He senses Dean before he sees him, and his heart skips a beat. Dean’s core is filled with bright, golden light amidst the fading darkness. Castiel smiles at Sam and resists the urge to run to Dean, to touch him.

 

“It’s working, Sam.”

 

Dean looks at him, and the expression on his face pulls Castiel apart. He looks guilty and ashamed, and he quickly averts his eyes when they meet Castiel’s. Castiel is still angry with him, and he won’t be forgiving a demon any time soon, but it’s a start. How amazing it would be to see Dean as he was before Castiel dies.

 

“You should go back to bed, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean says. “You still look like shit.”

 

“Sleep won’t make me get better,” Castiel explains. “It’s my vessel giving out.” Dean looks like he wants to say something but his jaw clenches instead. Sam looks at his watch and draws more blood. Dean watches the action hungrily. He wants his humanity back. It makes Castiel ache with joy.

 

Sam approaches Dean and Dean doesn’t fight as Sam injects the blood into his arm. When the stopper hits the bottom, Sam withdraws the needle, and Dean tries to lean towards him. His eyes are red rimmed and wet as he gives an imploring look to his brother. Sam gives him a weak smile.

 

“It’s ok Dean.”

 

Castiel watches them. He hasn’t quite deciphered the language the Winchesters speak despite spending a handful of years with them. The brothers are complex as individuals, but together, they are a wonder. They communicate in a way that is neither logical nor available for further study. One would need a decoder ring, special glasses, a map, and a prophet to even begin to understand their framework. Everyone who knows the brothers says they are alarmingly codependent, and Castiel has witnessed that many times. They can exist without the other but choose not to simply because they’re not forced to.

 

Dean looks down at his lap and his shoulders tremble. Sam doesn’t comfort him. Instead, he leaves. Castiel can’t look away from Dean, not when he’s watching the black fire dim under the light of Dean’s recovering soul. He could watch Dean like this until he dies and not regret a moment of it. If Dean could see what Castiel sees, then maybe he wouldn’t go looking to get himself killed at every opportunity.

 

“Hey Cas,” Dean says after a while, maybe hours later, Castiel can’t know for sure except by the shrinking of the black smoke. His voice his raspy and sad. “Listen….”

 

“It’s fine, Dean.”

 

“No, it’s not goddamn it!” Dean turns to him, his eyes red rimmed and glassy with tears. Castiel’s eyes rake over the shape of his face, the slope of his nose and the trembling of his lips. His vision doubles and he sees the light in Dean flickering out of sight. He’s losing his ability to see the ethereal plane.

 

“I should go,” Castiel says, standing. He sways slightly. He vaguely hears Dean calling out for Sam.  Dean can’t see him like this.

 

“Cas, no wait. Please,” Dean begs. “Untie me. Let me help you.”

 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel says, glancing back at him. He’s been wanting to say this for a very long time. He failed as an angel; Dean continued to make his own decisions that eventually led to him losing his soul, and it was Castiel’s duty was to watch out for him. His mission was to save Dean, in every sense of the word. Instead, he complicated everything. He lost his Grace, Heaven was closed for months, and Dean became a demon because Castiel wasn’t able to guide him in a better direction. He’d been busy as Metatron’s puppet.

 

“For everything.”

 

“Don’t, Cas. Come on.” Dean struggles in his bindings. Sam comes rushing in, and he immediately takes hold of Castiel’s arm.

 

“Hey, I’ve got you,” Sam says, letting Castiel lean against him. Castiel nods his thanks, he’s so exhausted.

 

“T-take me outside,” Castiel requests, slowly turning to go. Sam looks uncertain, but he agrees. Sam is very good at taking a hint.

 

“Don’t you dare leave me!” Dean yells at his back. “Cas!” Castiel keeps walking, forcing Sam to as well. “Cas!”

 

“You don’t have much time,” Sam says into his temple. “Maybe you should hear what he has to say.”

 

“I can’t, Sam. He’s not Dean. There’s nothing to be said.”

 

“He is Dean, Cas. Trust me.”

 

Castiel shakes his head. They make their way up to stairs to the landing. When they step outside, Hannah is already there. Instantly, Castiel feels as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Angels in a garrison can share energy to boost morale and strength. By nature, angels are social and don’t choose to be alone unless they are on the brink of defection. Hannah touches his chest, and he breathes easier.

 

“You’re so reckless, Castiel!” she scolds. “I hope this trip answered your questions!”

 

“I’m fine,” he says instead. Sam lets him go reluctantly. Castiel turns to him. “If I stay with Hannah, I’ll be fine for a few more days. If…when Dean gets better, you can call me.” Castiel studies Sam for a moment. “Take care of yourself, Sam Winchester.”

 

“This isn’t goodbye, Cas,” Sam says. “We can find a solution.”

 

“I’m afraid not.” Castiel pats his arm. Sam steps forward.

 

“Where do angels go when… you know?”

 

Castiel tilts his head at the oddity of the question. He considers it for a moment, trying to remember what happened the few times he died. He has no recollection of the time he spent in nonexistence. Human souls are immortal until destroyed. Castiel figures it’s the same thing for angels.

 

“Nowhere,” he says alas. Hannah places a hand on his elbow. “I will simply cease to exist.”

 

Sam nods and looks away, his face scrunched up with pain.

 

“Don’t be sad for me, Sam.”

 

Sam shakes his head once, his eyes on the ground.

 

\--

 

Hannah has gotten the hang of driving. Castiel wants to track down Crowley, so she takes them to where he’s currently located in North Dakota. She doesn’t ask about the day he had with the Winchesters. She can probably tell it didn’t go so well, which is why she’s angry.

 

“Can the Winchesters not help?” she asks after four hours of the same top 40 hits playing on the radio. “After everything you’ve done for them?”

 

“Hannah….” Castiel sighs in quiet exasperation.

 

“I wasn’t going to say anything before because I had some hope, but after talking to them you’re no closer to getting your Grace back!”

 

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Castiel responds calmly. “I already told you I’ve accepted dying. I only wanted to say goodbye.”

 

“That didn’t seem like a final farewell. Where was Dean Winchester?”

 

“Recovering.”

 

Hannah is quiet for a minute. “I’m sorry you had to see him like that.”

 

Castiel hasn’t told her about Dean, but Dean has the First Blade, so she must have figured out what happened by now. “Me too.”

 

They stop at a motel for Castiel to rest. Hannah says she has to leave, and to pray to her if he needs assistance. Castiel is too exhausted to respond. He barely manages to take off his coat and jacket before climbing into bed.

 

As a human, Castiel dreamt of Paradise. Sometimes, he dreamt of going on a hunt with Sam and Dean. On occasion, he’d have nightmares. Dreaming is a very human thing to do, figuratively and literally. When he watched Dean sleep, he wondered what went through Dean’s mind at the time and hoped Dean would share them with him one day. He never wanted to invade Dean’s private thoughts except when Dean’s lips would curl down in a frown or his brows would furrow as if in pain. Castiel knows from experience that Dean just likes to fish quietly, sitting at a dock alone in an eternal sunset. Is the act of fishing he enjoys? Is it the solitude? Perhaps it’s the peace, the quiet, the silence of the world not screaming in agony from creatures that go bump in the night.

 

When he wakes, he’s alone. There’s light bleeding through the cheap, dark curtains. Hannah isn’t back yet, but there’s a lunch bag and cup of coffee on the table. Castiel doesn’t call to her. He goes into the bathroom and washes his face. In the bag is a breakfast sandwich still warm with a side of hash browns.

 

They’re a few hours from South Dakota, and Castiel knows they have to move quickly if they still want to catch Crowley. Hannah returns a few hours after Castiel first woke. She looks unhappy and flustered.

 

“Everything ok in heaven?” he asks.

 

“Yeah,” she answers, plastering on a smile. “You feeling better?”

 

“Yes. We should go.”

 

“Sure.”

 

The drive to South Dakota is painless. Hannah doesn’t talk about the Winchesters and doesn’t look at him when he starts coughing. They find a bar just outside of Killdeer crawling with demons and Castiel knows Crowley is inside.

 

“I’ll go in alone,” he says. “If you stay here, you won’t be harmed.”

 

“What about you?” she asks. “You’re like a wounded fawn. They’ll easily kill you. I’ll come with you.”

 

“Crowley won’t kill me,” Castiel replies with a confident smile. “He wants me to suffer too much.”

 

In the end, Hannah comes with him. The demons eye them, but none of them approach them. The bar is dingy and humid inside, mixed with humans and demons. Its amazing how little humans are aware of their surroundings. There are all sorts of creatures among them, preying or just trying to survive. What kind of chaos would ensue when the veil is lifted?

 

“Castiel, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Crowley is seated at the bar, a glass of scotch in his hand. Castiel briefly reflects on the history he has with the demon and regrets ever having met him. After the Trials, he is more human than during their partnership trying to access Purgatory, but he’s still the reigning king of hell. He helped Sam regain control from Ezekiel, but he led Dean to the First Blade and the Mark. Crowley is a self-serving deal maker. Castiel knew that about him before, and its fine if he wants to betray Castiel. Sacrificing Dean’s soul to fight his battles for him is unforgivable, however.

 

“I’m here to talk about Dean,” he says, straightening his posture.  Crowley rolls his eyes.

 

“Of course you are. Have you seen him? I thought he was a mouthy pain in my arse before. Now he’s a mouthy, arrogant dick.”

 

“You did this to him! Now I want you to fix it!” Castiel’s outburst causes him to start coughing. Crowley looks on in pity.

 

“Sorry, Cas. No can do. I imagine Moose is trying to ‘cure’ him. I’m not sure how much it will change anything.”

 

“It’s making him better,” Castiel manages to say between gasps of air. He tugs at his collar. “What about the Mark?”

 

Crowley shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Castiel knocks the drink out of Crowley’s hand when Crowley brings it to his lips. He grabs the lapels of the demon’s suit, ready to punch him, but another demon grabs Castiel and tosses him across the bar. Hannah jumps in, stabbing the demon with her blade, but two demons come at her at once and subdue her while Castiel gets beaten up by other demons. He gets thrown out the window by a large one with heavy tattoos and a beard. Castiel lands on the dirt, groaning in pain.

 

“Really Castiel, stop wasting the last few breaths you have left worrying about Dean.” Crowley steps into the sun, casting Castiel in his shadow. “I know that’s hard for you, but he’s a big boy now.” Crowley crouches beside him. “If you want my honest opinion, I know of perhaps one thing that can save him. Wings. And not the maxi pad variety.”

 

Hannah runs over and tries to help Castiel up. Crowley steps back to give them space. Castiel gingerly sits up with Hannah’s help. His body hurts but his mind is racing. Crowley voiced what Castiel was too afraid to consider. He’s thought about the possibility before. There are rituals to bind human souls to Grace and purify it. The only problem is, Castiel doesn’t have his Grace.

 

Would he be willing to trade Metatron’s freedom for Dean’s soul? The answer is unequivocal.

 

“Are you alright?” Hannah asks. She’s hurt, but not as badly as Castiel. Castiel nods and gets to his feet.

 

“Y-yeah.” He winces when she lets him go.

 

“Let’s go to a motel. Help you get cleaned up.”

 

They find one just off the interstate. Once inside, Castiel starts shedding his coat and jacket. Hannah disappears and returns with bandages and ointments. He takes off his shirt and goes into the bathroom to wet a towel.

 

“That was very productive,” Hannah says sarcastically, opening the packets of bandages. She reads the labels on the ointments and hydrogen peroxide. “I should get some herbs from heaven instead,” she says.

 

Castiel starts cleaning his wounds before she’s gone. He tries to heal himself, but he gets dizzy and his Grace doesn’t even flicker anymore. There’s a deep gash on his arm and torso he spends awhile cleaning. Hannah returns a few minutes later with a pot of brown paste. She rubs it on his cuts and the pain instantly melts away.

 

“Thank you,” he breathes.

 

“Come back to heaven, Castiel,” she says. “You’re an angel, not a human. You’ll live longer there.”

 

“Hannah, I was thinking about getting my Grace back,” he says. She blinks up at him, startled. “Is it a horrible idea?”

 

“It’s not,” she replies. “I’m not worried about Metatron. He’s just one angel.”

 

“So am I,” Castiel argues. “I’ve done just as much damage as he has.”

 

“Don’t say that. You’re different. You’re selfless.”

 

“I’m very selfish, Hannah.”

 

She looks at him carefully. “You were fine dying before. What changed your mind?” When Castiel doesn’t answer, she sighs. “I see.” She sets the bowl on the bed and stands. “I don’t understand the ebb and flow of human emotions, but I can see this is beyond that.” She pauses and fiddles with her hands. “I have to be honest with you. I was with the Winchesters yesterday.” Castiel’s stomach drops, and a feeling of jealousy coils tight in his chest. She adds, “Sam successfully cured Dean, but the Mark isn’t gone. I assessed this myself, and I noticed something.”

 

“What?” Castiel asks, suddenly breathless.

 

“Your Grace. You probably never noticed it, but it’s buried in Dean. It’s barely noticeable, just a trace amount, so I made a suggestion.”

 

 Castiel feels light headed all of a sudden. Hannah notices this and helps him lie down. She takes off his shoes and helps him out of his pants. When he’s under the covers, trembling, she says, “Can you wait a few more days? Can you trust me and Sam?”

 

“What are you going to do?” Castiel asks.

 

Hannah smiles. “We’re going to save you.”

 

\--

 

Castiel senses the change in the room before he wakes. The electricity in the air is warm and familiar, and it pulls him out of sleep, but maybe it’s just a transition into another dream because Dean is there, glowing with large, golden wings.

 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Dean says, moving closer to the bed. Castiel usually has more mobility in his dreams, but now he’s sluggish and weak. Dean crouches in front of him, his giant wings slipping through the bed and floor. Castiel can see Dean’s soul, brighter and hotter than a super nova, and within it, the electric blue of holy light. It’s calling out to Castiel.

 

“Dean,” he whispers, reaching out. Dean takes his hand and guides it to the wing curling forward. The wing quivers in his touch, making Dean gasp. “I don’t….”

 

“You don’t recognize these? They’re yours.”

 

Castiel shakes his head. His wings don’t look like this- his are black, molted, skeletal. He once dreamt of Dean as an angel, how perfect he’d be cloaked in Grace and divine power. The wings he imagined are nothing compared to the flawless beauty before him, though, and Castiel is more in awe than surprised. They invoke an emotion deep within him that moves him to tears. Dean touches his cheek.

 

“None of that now,” Dean says. His eyes are bright, like emeralds. His entire body is glowing.

 

“You’re so beautiful, Dean.”

 

“Shut up,” Dean says, averting his eyes shyly. “You only see what you want to see, Cas.”

 

Castiel shakes his head, the movement limited by the pillow and Dean’s hand. “I only want to see you.”

 

“You’re such a sap. Jesus.” Dean smiles at him. He stands. “Alright, Hannah, what do I do?”

 

Hannah seems to materialize out of nowhere. When Dean moves to the side, Castiel sees Sam too. Castiel tries to sit up, but his muscles won’t listen to him.

 

“What’s happening?” he asks, growing worried.

 

“It’s alright, Castiel,” Hannah says, approaching the other side of his bed. “We’ll explain it later. For now, I need you to focus on Dean. Can’t be too hard for you.” She smiles. Dean sits on the bed and leans over him, his wings cocooning them. “Take his hand and hold it to your chest.” Dean does so, his expression calm and soft. Castiel’s heart is racing. “Let him in, and repeat after me.” She slowly chants a spell in Enochian, which Dean echoes, and it sounds like a marriage rite. Castiel tries to focus on the words in order to identify the spell but his thoughts are interrupted.

 

Bright, golden light erupts from his point of contact with Dean, and Castiel’s only thought is ‘oh’ as it burns into him, singeing his nerves and then cooling them in its wake. Electric blue fire licks into him along with a burst of warm energy. Dean’s soul and his Grace are melding into him, traveling through his arm and settling somewhere deep in his core. He recognizes Dean’s essence as if it were his own, and the colors swirl into one, a pale green, that charges every fiber of his being. Castiel gasps, suddenly alert and aware of all his angelic senses, as the light fades. Dean slumps over him, panting. His wings are gone, but Castiel can see his soul. It resonates powerfully within him, and Castiel can feel it within himself, like a steady heartbeat between them.

 

“Dean,” he says, because that’s all he can say these days. Dean tries to move but ends up collapsing completely on Castiel, his legs still dangling off the side of the bed. Castiel panics but sees that he’s still alive and carefully maneuvers him onto the bed. He stands and rounds on Hannah. “What did you do?” he asks, outraged despite having the familiar weight on his back.

 

“Before you get upset with her,” interrupts Sam. Castiel turns to him sharply. “Dean was okay with it. And it was a binding spell. I’m sure you know which one.”

 

Castiel is angry. He’s an angel in his boxers standing in a seedy motel room with three of the dumbest, most careless individuals he’s ever met. “I expected better of you, Hannah!” he hisses, careful of his volume. “How was this a good idea?”

 

“You were dying, Castiel!” she explains desperately. “It was a fairly simple solution! No Metatron. We summoned what was left of your Grace using Dean. We saved you!”

 

“For what purpose?” he laments, looking at Dean passed out on the bed. “You tethered him to me. His soul isn’t…. I’m not….”

 

“Cas, its ok,” Sam says, stepping forward. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Aren’t you happy the Mark is gone?” Castiel looks at Dean’s prone figure. He carefully turns over Dean’s right forearm and sees nothing but tanned skin. He runs his finger over the smooth flesh, and his body hums with the sensation. He and Dean are irreversibly connected now. Their sensations and emotions will flood unbidden to each other until they learn to control it. The two halves are constantly sending signals between them, like opposite ends of magnets drawing him and Dean together. Castiel suddenly craves touch and closeness from Dean.

 

“It’s dangerous,” Castiel murmurs, using all his self control to remove his hand. “Its intimate. It’s a liability. Did you warn Dean properly?”

 

“I gave him the gist of it,” Hannah concedes.

 

“The - !” Castiel throws his hands up, a very Dean-like gesture. Pretty soon he’s going to enjoy classic rock and have a penchant for risky situations that would highly result in death or a maimed body part. “Sam, you had to have known this would meld my grace and Dean’s soul together.” Sam glances at Hannah uncertainly. Castiel rubs at his temples. “And he has wings of his own. Not mine, his. Whatever grace was left over from Metatron’s spell is enough to manifest them, but split in half like this, my powers are severely limited. Dean and I would have to be together for anything to work.”

 

“So, its like a three-legged race type deal?” Sam inquires with a hint of amusement. Castiel glares at him.

 

“What’s a ‘three-legged race’?” Hannah asks, head tilted in confusion.

 

“Please, just leave. The both of you.” Castiel sighs. “Maybe bring some food, if you can,” he adds more politely.

 

“Of course,” says Sam.

 

“We’ll be back in an hour or so. The bond needs time to strengthen,” Hannah says matter-of-factly. Castiel rolls his eyes.

 

“Yes, thank you,” Castiel says dryly. Sam gives him an amused smile and shares a look with Hannah, who looks like she’s trying to keep a straight face and failing. He and Hannah slip out.

 

Castiel puts on his clothes and sits on the bed next to Dean. He stares at his profile for a few minutes, watching their combined soul and grace thrive within him. He can feel Dean’s love for Sam, the all consuming need to protect him and keep him close. He can read Dean’s childhood, the love for his mom and the loyalty to his dad in the pallet of colors. He can see Dean’s self-sacrificial tendencies born from deep self-hatred and feelings of worthlessness.

 

He wonders what Dean can discern from him.

 

A few minutes later, Dean rouses with a groan. Castiel watches as Dean rubs his eyes and sits up.

 

“Did it work?” Dean asks upon seeing him. Castiel nods.

 

“A little too well.”

 

Dean looks around. “My vision is still trippy. Wasn’t I giving you your grace back?”

 

“No Dean. Its ours now.” Castiel looks away, suddenly embarrassed. Dean’s confusion slips through their bond, and he tries hard to block it out. “We are bonded. My grace fused with your soul, and it split in half.”

 

“How is that even possible? You’re telling me I have half a soul now?” His thoughts briefly flicker to the period when Sam’s soul was still trapped in Lucifer’s cage.

 

“The composition is still the same, so you have a complete soul. You also have an essence of my grace within you.”

 

Dean still looks confused, but he tentatively tries the bond. It’s a presence in the back of their minds, like another sense. Castiel lets him delve as deep as he’d like. At this point, there’s nothing he can hide from Dean unless he really, really wants to – his mind is still his own. Dean closes his eyes in concentration and pulls at Castiel’s layers. Castiel’s obedience and devotion flood between them like a rising tide. Dean immediately withdraws, his eyes opening wide in surprise. Castiel can’t guard himself from that look.

 

“Dean, I –“

 

“It’s ok, Cas.” Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Look, I was kind of out of it as a demon but Sam told me I needed to apologize to you. I don’t really remember what happened, but if I hurt you, I’m sorry.” Dean looks down at his hands. He feels guilty and angry with himself. His self loathing bleeds through the bond, and Castiel carefully reaches out a tendril of comfort to express his forgiveness. Dean startles at the gentle persuasion.

 

“You can’t keep doing that, Cas.”

 

“You’re not obligated to beat yourself up. Stop it!”

 

“I’m allowed to feel regret and failure! Don’t try to control how I feel about myself!” Dean gets up and his wings blossom from his back in agitation. They are translucent but still golden and large. Dean glances at them but doesn’t seem to care, he’s so angry.

 

“I’m not, Dean,” Castiel responds, remaining seated and angling himself to get a better look at the hunter. “I can’t help how I feel about you.”

 

Dean deflates a little, but his lips are pressed in a thin line. “I’m not good at this,” he admits.

 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Dean runs a hand through his hair, and Castiel builds a wall between them to keep from reading his thoughts and emotions. Since he’s more aware of their situation, he figures he should take more responsibility to keep their relationship as normal as possible. It’s a burden he’s willing to bear. Dean just got cured from being a demon and now he’s bonded to an angel. Castiel is nothing if patient, and if his efforts will help Dean, then no price is too great to pay.

 

“Thank you,” Castiel says after a stretch of silence. Dean glances at him. “For saving me.”

 

“It saved me too,” Dean replies simply, “but you’re welcome.”

 

Sam and Hannah return a few minutes later with take out and coffee. Castiel is mostly human now, so he’ll need to eat to maintain his body. Dean should be happy with remaining mostly human, if the way he reaches of the bag in Sam’s hand is any indication of his love for food. Sam pulls out his laptop and Hannah approaches Castiel.

 

“I’ll return to Heaven then, I suppose,” she says. “I’d ask you to join me, but I know it’s not likely that you will.”

 

“Thank you for everything, Hannah,” Castiel says sincerely. “I apologize for being angry with you earlier.”

 

“I’m glad you’re back with us.” She touches his arm and disappears in a flutter of wings. Castiel will miss her, although it’s probably best if she stays away from his and the Winchesters’ influence.

 

“You back in good graces with the angel squad?” Dean asks between bites of his burger. Castiel ignores the twitch in Dean’s wings, trying not to read too much into the movement.

 

“I did give them Metatron,” Castiel replies. “They’ve forgiven me a little.” Sam watches them curiously. Castiel crosses the room to where they are and sits in the third chair at the small table. He wants to touch Dean’s wings so badly his hands practically tremble with it. Dean is of course oblivious to the way they spread in invitation, baring the soft undersides.

 

Sam clears his throat. “So, there have been disappearances in Missouri. Five people in two months, all in the same town.”

 

“Cool, sounds like a case to me,” Dean says. He turns to Castiel while balling up with wrapper. “Since you’re with us, you won’t be needing your pimp mobile. We should stash it at the bunker first.”

 

“Maybe we should slow down,” Castiel suggests carefully. Although he appreciates Sam’s eagerness to return everything back to normal, he still thinks it’s too much for Dean right now.

 

“We have enough cars, Dean,” Sam objects, as if he didn’t hear Castiel. “Maybe he should get rid of it. I’m not sure we even have space.”

 

“We can make space.”

 

“What do you think, Cas? Wanna keep it?”

 

Castiel looks between the two brothers. Other than Dean’s wings, the sight of the two brothers sitting before him debating about a case is familiar. Maybe other than trying to change what they’ve been doing, they should try for normal – well, whatever is ‘normal’ for them.

 

“It’s a reliable car,” he says slowly. Dean smiles in triumph at Sam.

 

“It won’t be fair if you start siding with Dean,” Sam grouses.

 

“I won’t, Sam,” Castiel reassures with a small smile.

 

Apparently, Dean cried when he saw the state the Impala was in after he’d been cured of the Mark. Sam tried to spare him the trauma by cleaning up most of the mess, but when he told Dean that trash was littered everywhere, there were stains on the seats, and a smell remained in the upholstery, Dean sobbed and apologized to Baby. Hannah didn’t have the patience to wait for Dean to clean the Impala before driving it so they flew to Castiel. They don’t have time to go back to the bunker to get her ready for the trip to Missouri, so they take Castiel’s car instead.

 

“You should try hiding your wings, Dean,” Castiel suggests when they pass through the driver’s seat. “You’ll attract attention.”

 

“I like them,” he says, flapping them for emphasis.

 

“They are distracting.”

 

Dean doesn’t argue with that. Sam touches one, his hand moving through it, and Castiel feels it faintly in his own. Dean flinches away.

 

“Stop that!”

 

“It’s cool,” Sam says. “It feels warm.”

 

“A significant portion of his soul consists of his love for you, Sam. It’s why it feels that way for you,” Castiel explains.

 

“Alright, enough with the girly Hallmark, shit,” Deans exclaims. “Cas, make them go invisible or whatever.”

 

Castiel can do that for him, but it’ll require him to use their bond. He licks his lips and concentrates on retracting them. He feels it collapse into Dean’s body, nestling safely in his core until needed. Dean gives a small shiver.

 

“With three people, we can make less stops,” Sam says optimistically. Dean shrugs. Castiel doesn’t mind driving. “And we can make it in less time.”

 

They are about an hour in their trip when, “Hey, you can fly now, right Dean?” Sam teases, laughing. Dean mutters something under his breath and tries to hit Sam with one arm while keeping his other hand on the wheel. Contentment blooms in Castiel’s chest, unbidden. Dean is happiest like this. Castiel never realized the depth of it.

 

Throughout the drive, Dean complains about the lack of tapes and changes the radio station after every other song. They hit miles of dead zones where there is no radio reception and Dean fills the silence by singing his favorite tunes. Sam is fast asleep, so Dean hums quietly. Eventually, Dean gets tired and they find a motel about halfway through Tennessee.

 

“Do you need a bed, Cas?” Dean asks before going inside to check in. Castiel is exhausted but shakes his head. “What are you gonna do while Sam and I recharge?”

 

“Keep watch, I suppose. Same as always.” Dean nods and leaves the car.

 

“Can you read all his thoughts?” Sam asks, watching as Dean strides into the motel office.

 

“No, I’ve erected a barrier within our link. I want him to be comfortable.”

 

“I see.”

 

Castiel thinks about Sam’s question. “If this is about what he said when he had the Mark, you know nothing he said was true….”

 

“Yeah,” Sam agrees weakly. Castiel wishes he could show him everything Dean feels for him, but it’s not his place. The brothers can be so oblivious and insecure at times, but their blind spots were always each other. Castiel isn’t sure why he’s surprised by their misunderstandings anymore.

 

Sam sluggishly strips down to his boxers before climbing under the covers. Usually, the Winchesters don’t undress to sleep with the immediacy and danger involved in their line of work, but Sam is probably emotionally and physically drained from the last few days and hasn’t recovered yet. Dean sits on his bed in the dark, looking much like a weary soul. Castiel sits on the chair at the table, staring at nothing.

 

“Cas,” Dean whispers, “come here for a sec.” Castiel sits next to him on the bed. Dean slowly reaches out his hand, as if giving Castiel the option to move away. Castiel watches patiently as Dean touches the back of his hand and inhales sharply at the sensation. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all day,” he admits quietly. “Is that normal?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel says, allowing himself to indulge in Dean’s simple touch. “The bond is still very new, so it protects itself by creating this need for contact. It’s not necessary, but it helps nurture it.”

 

“You seem fine. I’m falling apart, man.”

 

“My fear of pushing you is far greater than my desire to nurture our bond.” Castiel knows not to send emotions through their link, but he touches Dean’s jaw in a soothing gesture. Dean’s eyes flutter. “Get some rest. I’ll sit right here, if you like.”

 

Dean nods and stands. He removes his flannel and tosses it over the night stand. Castiel tries not to stare as Dean removes his belt next, then starts undoing the zip of his jeans. Dean toes off his shoes and slides his jeans off. Castiel can feel the warmth of Dean’s skin. He wants to touch him so terribly, its almost unbearable. Dean just watches him, almost as if he were waiting. Castiel moves off the bed, his eyes downcast. He hears Dean get into bed.

 

“Night, Cas.”

 

“Pleasant dreams, Dean.”

 

They don’t have much their hunting gear with them, but dispatching the small nest of vampires causing the disappearances goes smoothly regardless. Sam’s shoulder is still healing, so he did most of the recon work while Dean and Castiel beheaded the vampires. Fighting alongside Dean was fluid, like second nature. Castiel was aware of him at all times, as if Dean were an extension of himself. Oddly, it wasn’t distracting because he would know if Dean struggled rather than having the urge to look back at him every few minutes to make sure as he usually would have done.

 

If Dean noticed their new chemistry, he didn’t comment on it.

 

The drive back to the bunker takes ten hours, but they make it in one trip. Castiel’s body is sore from sitting for so long, even with breaks at gas stations. He wonders if he’ll get used to it. Sam immediately goes for a shower and Dean heads for the alcohol in the library. He pours himself a shot and sips at it as he takes a seat, sighing. Castiel joins him.

 

“Hell of a week,” Dean says over the rim of his glass. “Literally.” Castiel nods in agreement. Dean puts the empty glass down and folds his hands on the table, staring at Castiel. Castiel stares right back. “How are you holding up?”

 

“Pretty well. What about you?”

 

“I’m good,” Dean replies, leaning back in his seat. “All things considered. It’d be nice to get some R and R for a day though.” He runs his hand through his hair. “What do you want to do?”

 

Castiel looks down at his hands. “I was hoping to stay here with you and Sam,” he replies truthfully. He doesn’t add that he doesn’t want to be separated from Dean if he can help it. Not yet, anyway. Dean nods and drinks his beer.

 

“You know you’re welcome here anytime.”

 

Castiel smiles at him gratefully.

 

\--

 

They get a job out in Ohio from one of their dad’s old contacts after two weeks of silence. There’s a band of Rugarus hiding out in the countryside. Its an all-hands-on deck job, and he could use all the hunters he can get. Sam, Dean, and Castiel stock the Impala and make the half day drive in one sitting. Kirk Rodson is an older gentleman with a glass eye and a scar running down his temple to jaw, but he’s funny if a little crazy. He reminds Dean of Rufus a little bit and wonders how many more of Bobby’s generation of hunters are still out there.

 

Castiel met a few rugarus in purgatory while he was on the run from the Leviathans. They’re vicious when hungry, and in purgatory, everything is hungry. He feared for Dean at the time, but he knew that Dean could handle anything that came his way as long as it wasn’t a Leviathan. He was glad that Dean managed to find an ally at least, but if Dean had been in any actual danger, Castiel would have found him immediately.

 

Since then, Castiel vowed to himself never to leave Dean again.

 

“Alright, we torch these things,” Dean explains to Castiel as he, Sam, and Kirk gather the necessary supplies. “They are strong as hell, and if we are facing a group of them, it can get hairy.”

 

“We might need more flame throwers, then,” Castiel suggests unhelpfully. Sam’s mouth quirks up in amusement.

 

“We have plenty of gasoline,” Dean says.

 

Turns out that there are actually eight of Rugarus. Kirk nearly gets his arm chomped off when the three that were unaccounted for rushed into the cabin to help their friends. Castiel fights one off with his angel blade and Sam is able to tackle the other. Kirk shoots a few rounds into the remaining one and Dean finishes the job by quickly dousing him in some gasoline and hitting him with the flamethrower. When it’s all over, Kirk invites them back to his house for beers.

 

“Glad you boys helped out,” he says while Sam stitches a gash on his thigh. “Your old man taught you boys well.”

 

Dean nods. “It was good meeting you, Kirk.”

 

“Take care.”

 

They get back on the road just as the sun is rising. Sam is passed out on the passenger seat, his mouth slightly open. Castiel watches him.

 

“I’m pretty sure Sam would think that’s creepy,” Dean says, glancing at him. Castiel meets his eyes.

 

“You used to watch him sleep all the time.” Dean turns back to the road. This new affection Castiel feels for Sam is nearly overwhelming in its intensity. Castiel never realized how much Sam means to Dean until now, after experiencing the sensation first hand. He doesn’t have access to Dean’s memories, but this reflexive emotion is purely Dean’s.

 

“Now that’s creepy,” Dean says. “Do you have an all access pass to my memories or something?”

 

“No, but I can sense that it makes you happy.”

 

Dean exhales slowly. “What else can you tell makes me happy?”

 

Castiel looks outside at the stars and feels a sense of nostalgia. He thinks about burgers and the thrill of a challenging hunt. He imagines the sound of a soft rustle of wings and the friction of rough fabric. Castiel looks down at his trench coat, and there’s a mild flutter in his chest, like his heart just skipped a beat. He isn’t sure what any of it means, but the feelings are powerful. He looks over at Dean, but Dean’s eyes are firmly on the road ahead.

 

“I don’t understand,” Castiel says.

 

“This is works both ways, right?” Dean asks. Castiel nods, his face burning slightly.

 

“I know it isn’t a secret,” Castiel tries to explain quickly. “And if it disgusts you, or – or if you can’t tolerate it, I swear I’ll make it go away, Dean.” Castiel doesn’t want to look at him, so he focuses on his hands instead. He can feel Dean prying through their link, but Castiel can’t let him in. Castiel doesn’t want Dean to see how much this is hurting him in case Dean might feel guilty and force himself to do something he doesn’t want to. He already knows how tightly his grace binds to Dean’s soul, how it molds itself perfectly against it, and Dean by now must be able to feel it, too.

 

“It was probably inevitable,” Dean says after a while. “Profound bond and all. You wrenched my sorry ass out of hell and a part of your grace got stuck with me. I’m just sorry it had to be me, Cas.”

 

“What?” Castiel asks, his chest clenching painfully. Maybe he should just teleport out of the car. He can’t listen to another word of rejection fall from Dean’s lips.

 

“I mean, I’m ruined, Cas.” Castiel, when he stops worrying about what’s going on inside his head, realizes that Dean is talking about himself. “I never forgot Hester’s words. You’ve been damned since you laid a hand on me. And now your grace has been pulled in.”

 

“That’s not true,” Castiel growls, meeting Dean’s eyes through the rearview mirror. Dean’s widen in shock. “You are the Righteous Man, Dean. Your soul is _magnetic_. I may have pulled you out of hell, but you saved me from an existence of servitude and ignorance. The mistakes I made given the concept of freedom you introduced to me were mine, not yours. Stop hating yourself for one second and realize that I chose to be with you. I rescued your soul from perdition. I stitched your body back together. I renounced my brother and sisters.” He huffs and licks his dry lips. “I made those decisions for my reasons, not yours,” he adds quietly.

 

Dean’s hands are shaking where they grip the wheel. Castiel can’t sense what Dean is feeling exactly but it’s intense. Sam stirs slightly and Castiel lays a hand on the back of his head, lulling him back to sleep. He didn’t mean to disturb him with his speech. Dean just gets on his damn nerves sometimes. Castiel’s patience is nearly boundless; all angels have that virtue. However, Dean is infuriating in his stubbornness regarding all things, and Castiel never felt guilty about beating some sense into him, even though it hurt him more than he hurt Dean.

 

They are silent for the rest of the drive. The sun is peaking up just above the horizon when they arrive at the bunker. Dean was able to drive the entire night because he’ll need less sleep with Castiel’s Grace fueling him. Sam is surprised but doesn’t complain except for the ache in his neck. He goes to his room and collapses into bed almost immediately. Dean dawdles for a bit, clearly thinking of something to say to Castiel, but Castiel is a little tired himself.

 

“Goodnight, Dean,” he says, heading to his room. He closes the door quietly and strips off his clothes down his boxers. He climbs underneath the cool sheets and falls asleep thinking about nothing.

 

\--

 

Hannah visits a few days later to request Castiel’s help in getting angels to return to heaven. Castiel is reluctant, but he owes her so he goes with her. Since he won’t be traveling with Dean, he can’t fly, so they take his old Lincoln that Dean tuned up in their downtime.

 

“Be careful,” Dean says when Castiel tells him he’s leaving for a bit.

 

“You too,” Castiel replies. “Our bond will waver a little. Resist the urge to go looking for me.”

 

Dean raises his brows. “Alright.”

 

“Sam, please take care of Dean.” Sam must catch the exasperation in his tone because he huffs a laugh, and says, “You know I try my damnest, Cas.”

 

“I’m right here,” Dean complains. Sam rolls his eyes.

 

Castiel’s parting advice to Dean is something he will need to do as well. He can’t be physically separated from Dean for long without uncomfortable side effects, such as an exponential increase in longing and depression. They’d have to be apart for years before any really emotional damage can be done, but their bond is still new so it could easily take months.

 

Hannah waits for him in the car. They drive west to Utah.

 

\--

 

Castiel and Hannah successfully convince five wayward angels to return home. The other three flee and one is killed by Castiel when he tries to attack Hannah. Castiel has been gone for two months at this point, and even though he receives a call every now and then from Sam checking up on him, Castiel misses the Winchesters dearly. Hannah understands, and since heaven is satisfied for now, they return to the bunker.

 

The bunker is empty when Castiel gets back. He gets a text from Sam that he and Dean are working a case in Arkansas and will return in two days. Castiel walks into Dean’s room and falls asleep on his bed, the heaviness in his chest instantly feeling lighter. There are remnants of Dean’s soul in this room, barely-there tendrils of it that cling to the bed, the photographs, and dust. Castiel lets his wings unfurl, and they stretch out to meet the traces of Dean. Castiel misses feeling the solidity of them, but what he has now is better than the flayed, bleeding skeleton of his last pair. He can feel Dean’s soul pulse between the feathers, and he strokes the bright colors of gold and green between the black.

 

Castiel greets them in the library. Sam looks pretty beat up and Dean is favoring his left shoulder. Castiel goes from relieved to angry in two seconds and Sam tries to walk quickly around him but Castiel blocks his path.

 

“What the hell happened?” Castiel demands, glaring at the two brothers. Sam looks back at Dean as if signaling for him to explain. Castiel can read his body language clearly: you do it, he’s your angel. Dean steps forward sheepishly.

 

“A coven teamed up with a pack of werewolves. I think I broke my clavicle but it seems to be healing. Sam might have some fractured ribs. Could you check? I tried but my mojo seems to want to help me instead.”

 

Castiel’s mouth is in a thin line but he checks on Sam. Sam’s diaphragm is bruised and his kidney is hemorrhaging. He quickly heals him, and Sam sighs in gratitude. He must have been in terrible pain but did not want to alert Dean. These brothers are so stupidly protective of each other that Castiel wants to strangle them, slowly.

 

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam says, stretching and taking deep breaths.

 

“Your powers were limited in my absence,” Castiel says to Dean. “You should heal faster now.” He considers helping Dean heal but decides against it. Dean frowns as Castiel turns away, ignoring him. Sam offers to run out and get food.

 

Castiel glares as Dean passes him to get to the bar. He pours himself a shot of whiskey and swallows it down. He hisses and pours himself another. Castiel wants to stay angry, but Dean is alive and his presence is so calming that Castiel reaches out a hand and knits Dean’s muscle and bone back together. Dean’s wings manifest just then, immediately reaching out for Castiel. Dean looks back at them, startled, as Castiel brings out his own. They touch, folding into one another. Dean visibly shudders and Castiel closes his eyes at the initial shock of ecstasy.

 

“I’ve missed you,” Castiel suddenly says. The confession was wrenched out of him when their wings touched. He barely has time to recover when Dean is pressing closer against him so that their sides are touching. Dean’s warmth feels like sunlight on his skin.

 

“Y-yeah,” Dean replies, glancing at him almost skittishly. Castiel takes a deep breath and widens the space between them. Their wings stretch to maintain the contact. Castiel doesn’t have the strength to pull them apart. He waits for Dean to do it for him.

 

Dean looks at their point of connection in curiosity. He doesn’t seem disgusted by it, but the demon’s words come back to haunt Castiel. What if Dean finds this desperation disgusting? What if he only tolerates it because Castiel has been useful to the Winchesters for so long?

 

“I can hear you, Cas,” Dean says quietly. Castiel gasps and tears himself away. He forgot that thoughts and emotions could flow unobstructed through a connection of Grace.

 

“I- I’m sorry.” Castiel turns and leaves before Dean can say more, either to confirm or deny Castiel’s thoughts. Frankly, he is too afraid to know for sure right now. Being vulnerable in front of Dean never frightened him, but this is different. Dean can’t know how much Castiel wants this, how deep Castiel’s love for him runs. It would drive him away, like the old adage about gripping onto something too tightly just to have it slip through your fingers.

 

He can feel Dean moving about in the bunker as if he’s constantly sending frequencies of his presence to him. Castiel put the barricade between their link, but Dean hasn’t tried to tear it down. Sam comes back half an hour later with burgers and he calls Castiel from his room to come out and join them.

 

“Why are you in here?” Sam asks, looking around as if expecting something exciting to be going on in Castiel’s room. Castiel sits rigidly on his bed.

 

“Needed some space,” Castiel replies, standing. Sam gives him a sympathetic look.

 

“Sometimes it’s best not to leave Dean to his own thoughts.”

 

Castiel nods slowly. “You’re right, Sam.”

 

They eat at the table in the library. Sam recounts their job with the coven and werewolves in full detail. Castiel shares his journey with Hannah and the family of kittens and their mother he insisted on making a detour for. Sam says he’s more of a dog person, and they engage in an argument about which pet is better.

 

“Cats rule, dogs drool. Isn’t that the saying?” Dean says in exasperation when Sam starts looking for evidence in the library to support his claim. Sam glares at him and Castiel smiles.

 

“I believe so, Dean,” Castiel agrees. Sam gives up and moves to throw his trash away, pointedly not collecting either Dean’s or Castiel’s. He goes to his room and closes the door loud enough for them to hear. Castiel looks worriedly at Dean. “Did we upset him?” Dean laughs and shakes his head.

 

“Nah. He likes to be a little princess sometimes. Come on. Let me show you how to change your oil.”

 

Castiel stares as Dean takes their trash and bundles it together, his face heating rapidly. There’s no way Dean can know about that just yet, but maybe he’s been reading up on angelic lore? It’s not really called ‘changing one’s oil.’ Sure, it’s a type of maintenance, but it’s personal and no one has ever –

 

“Cas? You ok, man?”

 

“I- I don’t…”

 

“No need to be embarrassed. First time for everything.” Dean’s smile is easy going and open, and Castiel nods, melting. He follows Dean rather unsteadily, past their rooms and into the garage. Dean leads them to his car.

 

“We’re going to do this here?” Castiel asks, glancing around.

 

“Yeah, where else?” Dean moves to the driver’s side and pops the hood of the car. Castiel is barely paying attention to what Dean is saying next. He gets the sinking feeling that he misunderstood what Dean was referring to. Apparently, automobiles had motor oil that needed to be changed after a certain number of miles, and it’s important to check the levels in case of a leak. Castiel feels both relieved and disappointed, so he laughs instead. Dean gives him a strange look.

 

“I apologize. I’m listening.”

 

Somewhere along the way, Dean sheds his flannel and Castiel has his sleeves rolled up. It’s a tight fit under the car for the two of them, but Castiel focuses on Dean’s dexterous hands and guidance as Castiel removes the cap and drains the oil. Dean teaches him a few other things about the car, its battery and radiator fluid. Dean finds comfort in this, Castiel realizes, and whether it’s the Impala or Castiel’s Lincoln, he moves with confidence and reverence for the machine. The only other single mindedness he has like this is with hunting. Castiel, on more than one occasion, has wanted to be the center of such focus.

 

“It’s a lot to take in, but we can go over it again after your next five thousand miles.” Dean gestures for him to slide back under the car to check the oil’s progress.

 

The next few days are quiet. Castiel is grateful for it because he uses that time to think about what he’s going to do with his Grace and Dean’s soul. The bond as far as he knows his irreversible, and trying to separate them might end up killing him and Dean. Castiel doesn’t want to, but he feels like he doesn’t have a choice. Being bonded to Dean is one of the greatest things to have ever happened to him, but it came out of necessity. Clearly Hannah did not warn the Winchesters thoroughly of the bond, and Sam and Dean don’t always think things through if it addresses their main problem. It’s obvious that Dean doesn’t want this bond, and if Castiel can find a way to return Dean’s soul, he will do it, regardless of the consequences.

 

That being decided, he tells Sam that Hannah needs his help again. It’s the crack of dawn, and Sam just came back from his run. He looks suspicious.

 

“Alright. Don’t keep away for too long.”

 

“See you soon, Sam.”

 

It takes a good part of his energy to get to heaven. The flight leaves him a bit dizzy, but he feels better once drinking from the spring he finds in the little girl’s heaven he stumbled into. She’s camping with her grandparents. Castiel treks on foot to heaven’s library.

 

His wings look different here. With heaven’s energy lending itself to him, they manifest completely. Up here, they are more beautiful than Castiel imagined they would be, and he sees other angels noticing them as well. His jet black feathers and lined with gold that seem to move with the light. Castiel only wishes that Dean could see them but remembers that he won’t have them for long.

 

Hannah must have sensed him because she finds him in the heart of the library searching through texts of their angelic history. The library is five stories tall but expands for miles. The light from outside touches every corner, illuminating the marble shelves in soft white.

 

“This is a surprise,” she says with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

 

Castiel gestures to his scroll. “I’m trying to undo my bond with Dean.” Hannah immediately frowns.

 

“Why?”

 

“He doesn’t want it, Hannah!”

 

“Is that what he said? Did you ask him?” she asks, now angry. Castiel snaps his mouth shut. Hannah’s never raised her voice to him. She sighs. “Castiel, you love him, yet you don’t trust him.”

 

Castiel’s heart stutters at her words. “Of course I do!”

 

“Then why are you here? Go home.”

 

“I am….” Castiel trails off and puts the scroll back on the shelf. ‘I am home,’ he wanted to say. Hannah touches his hand.

 

“You’re afraid. It’s hard to believe one man has such a hold over you.” He looks at her but her eyes are alight with humor. “Go home,” she repeats. “I’ll help you.”

 

Castiel is suddenly in front of the bunker. Hannah is looking out at the sunset barely visible through the dense forest in the west.

 

“I could show you what happened while you were dying,” she says, “but that’s not the point.” Castiel feels a sudden rush of awe and frustration with the other angel. She touches his arm and leaves. Castiel realizes he didn’t get to thank her.

 

Dean opens the door to the bunker looking half mad. Before Castiel can say anything, Dean drags him inside.

 

“What the hell man? Don’t just disappear without saying anything!”

 

“I told Sam,” Castiel replies, looking around for the other Winchester for backup. He’s nowhere to be seen.

 

“And why didn’t you tell me? You figured Sam would just deliver the message?”

 

Castiel figures this argument can go one of two ways: either he apologizes or defends himself. Dean isn’t being rational at the moment, which means Castiel has done something to affect him emotionally. Dean is Castiel’s bonded, not Sam. And if Castiel is being fair, he can admit that he should have told Dean where he was going.

 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says, and Dean visibly deflates. “I went to heaven. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

 

Dean looks unsure of himself all of a sudden. Castiel decides to take Hannah’s advice.

 

“May I ask you something, Dean?” Dean nods slowly. “This bond we have, is this something you want?”

 

Castiel can tell when Dean is looking for an exit strategy from this conversation, and he brings out his wings, blocking the path to the stairs. Dean stares at them, and his wings manifest in response. Castiel keeps his in check while Dean’s reach out to him.

 

“You were dying, Cas,” Dean says after a moment, relenting. “Your Grace drove out the Mark and I was able to help you, so of course I agreed to this.”

 

“Did you know what the bond would entail?”

 

“Yeah, Hannah explained it pretty thoroughly.” Dean shifts uncomfortably, but his wings won’t stop arcing towards Castiel’s. “These stupid things have a mind of their own, though,” he says, gesturing to the appendages that seem to be made of nothing but golden light. Castiel smiles because they really don’t. “I know how you feel about me,” he adds. Castiel flinches. “I’ve known for…a while. Maybe before the almost-apocalypse.”

 

Castiel wants to dive headfirst into a sinkhole. Dean just continues, “I’ll be honest; I was a little weirded out at first. A nerdy angel who broke me out of hell, who knows all this shit about me, yet still _lo- wants_ me, it was different.” Scary. “But you want the Righteous Man.” Castiel wants to take advantage of the pause to tell Dean who wrong he is, but he reigns in his emotions and lets Dean finish. “I never lied when I said you were like family, the closest person I’ve got other than Sammy. You’ve died for me, gave up heaven for me, and you never said I owed you anything. You’ve always let me do what I want to do and backed me up even when you didn’t like it. It’s hard to miss that kind of love.”

 

Castiel swallows thickly, waiting for the fallout. But Dean steps closer and his wings finally brush against Castiel’s, and Castiel feels his resolve break. He wanted to be strong, to keep himself together for when Dean finally says that he doesn’t want this thing that keeping them together.

 

“Let down the walls, Cas,” Dean says gently. Castiel shakes his head. “Don’t be stubborn. I’m trying to tell you something.” Castiel looks up at Dean, reading the sincerity in his bright, green eyes, and he dissolves the barrier he placed in their link. Dean invites him into his mind. Castiel follows carefully.

 

Dean leads him deep into the recesses of his soul where he carved out a place for Castiel. There are memories of their times together, both pleasant and not, and there are feelings of happiness, desire, and the old scar of betrayal. Dean’s emotions are pure and intense. He cares very deeply for Castiel, and it is in this spot that Castiel’s Grace decided to make its home, nestled safely in the depths of the human’s core.

 

“You’re very important to me, Cas,” Dean says after a moment. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

\--

 

The bond formally cements after a year. That morning, Castiel feels it solidly like resetting bone.  Dean is already awake and making breakfast in the kitchen. Sam is at his laptop, searching for a case. Dean must have felt it too because he looks differently at Castiel when he enters the kitchen, and it makes Castiel’s blood hot.

 

“Hey, I just got an SOS from Charlie and she says she appeared in Nashville after Dorothy sent her home,” Sam says, appearing in the doorway. “I’m gonna go pick her up.”

 

“What? Charlie? We’ll come too!” Dean says, dumping the eggs on a plate. Sam shakes his head.

 

“I’ll just get her, and if there’s a case you guys can take it. I’ll take Cas’ car.”

 

“Take the Impala. Way more reliable.” Dean winks at Castiel. Castiel doesn’t take any offense. Sam nods and takes Dean’s keys. “Call me when you get her!”

 

Sam voices an acknowledgement and leaves. Castiel doesn’t remember meeting anyone named Charlie.

 

“She’s a good friend,” Dean explains. “You’ll love her. She went with Dorothy to Oz nearly… thirteen months ago,” he says after mentally counting the time.

 

“The Oz?” Castiel says, awed. “Incredible.”

 

“Yep, and Dorothy is a Woman of Letters.” Dean gives Castiel a plate of eggs and pancakes, but Castiel isn’t hungry anymore. At least, not for food. The sensation comes back when he meets Dean’s eyes.

 

“Dean, I’m not feeling well, I think.”

 

“What’s wrong, Cas?” Dean asks, running water over the pan in the sink. He approaches Castiel and presses a hand to his forehead. His touch singes Castiel’s nerves, and he gasps at the touch. Dean watches him, the pupils of his green eyes dilating slightly, and he licks his lips. “Is this normal?” he asks, slightly breathless.

 

Castiel can’t say for sure. He doesn’t know if the bond requires a physical connection, but he’s never met bonded mates who don’t partake in physical intimacy. This sudden desire he feels for Dean isn’t new – he’s thought about touching Dean in pleasurable ways for a while– but now that he focuses on it, he recognizes the feeling as lust – pure, unadulterated lust.

 

“I- I don’t know,” Castiel says, struggling to breathe evenly. Dean’s body is so close to his that he can feel the heat radiating off of it. “We’ve been fine, so far.”

 

“Should we ignore it?” Dean asks, straightening. It puts distance between them and Castiel pulls him closer and leans his head on his sternum.

 

“If you want,” Castiel replies, but for the life of him, he can’t release Dean’s robe.

 

“What do you want?” Dean asks. Castiel looks up at him. Dean stares back unwaveringly. Its now or never.

 

“I want you.”

 

“OK,” Dean says, pulling Castiel up from the stool. “OK.” He pins Castiel to the island and leans in slowly. Castiel brings his hands up to Dean’s neck and cradles his jaw. He presses their mouths together and it’s like turning an ignition. His desire hits him all at once, and he moans as Dean shoves his tongue into his mouth. Castiel tries to keep up, but Dean outranks him in skill. He makes up for it in passion, and soon Dean is moaning against his lips and scrambling at his clothes.

 

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Dean says against his mouth, moving to his neck.

 

“Wh-what?” Castiel breathes, clutching Dean tightly to him. Dean sucks a mark onto his neck and unbuttons his shirt quickly. He kisses Castiel again and pulls him towards his bedroom. Once inside Castiel presses Dean against the closed door and kisses him. Dean slips Castiel’s shirt off his shoulders and starts working on his pants. Castiel pulls the knot of Dean’s robe and it falls open, revealing Dean in a plain white shirt and boxers.

 

Castiel steps back to look at Dean, his own pants halfway down his thighs. Dean takes off his robe and pulls off his shirt. Castiel licks his lips at the sight of his handprint on Dean’s shoulder. It’s still bright pink, as if Castiel just pulled Dean out of hell yesterday, not six years ago. He touches the scar and Dean’s wings unfurl behind him, more solid now than they have been. Castiel, knowing exactly what to do, reaches into the underside of Dean’s wing and finds the oil gland there. Dean groans and drops his head onto Castiel’s shoulder, gripping his arms.

 

“Uhnn, what is that, Cas?” Dean gasps, his wings shuddering and arching back, exposing the sensitive underside. Castiel brings his hand back and licks his fingers, moaning at the taste. Dean tastes absolutely divine. It’s sweet and slightly earthly, and it makes his tongue heavy with desire. Dean watches him through half lidded eyes.

 

“Can I do that to you, too?” Dean asks. Castiel nods and exposes his wings, darker and smaller than Dean’s. Castiel takes Dean’s hand and guides it behind him.

 

“At the base of my wings, there’s a gland. It’s very sensitive so –“ he cuts off with a moan when Dean touches it. His tentative fingers are sweet yet teasing at the same time, and Castiel wants Dean to apply more pressure but doesn’t ask for it.

 

“It’s so wet, Cas,” Dean says, rubbing more firmly. Castiel trembles and mewls. He’s heard about how pleasurable it can be to have a mate do this, but he didn’t realize it could take him apart like this. Dean is stroking the gland steadily now, messaging around it and running his hand through the soft feathers behind it. Castiel arches against him.

 

“Dean,” he whispers brokenly. Dean leans down and kisses him hungrily. Castiel feels his impending orgasm and tries to move closer, but Dean pulls away, panting harshly and removing his hands from Castiel’s wings. Castiel’s heart sinks.

 

“Slow,” Dean manages to say. “I’m not going anywhere. Let’s take our time.” Castiel nods, and Dean smiles. Castiel returns it, and Dean leads him to the bed. He turns around and undresses Castiel, slipping his shirt over his head and passed his wings. He slowly removes Castiel’s sleep pants. Castiel resists the instinct to cover his nudity. He’s not self-conscious; angels don’t care about nakedness the way humans do, but Dean’s eyes on him make him feel shy.

 

“Undress me,” Dean prompts. Castiel removes Dean’s shirt and pulls down his boxers. His heavy erection springs free, tilting upwards towards his abdomen. Castiel touches it curiously, his fingers ghosting over the smooth, rigid flesh. Dean sighs as Castiel continues to explore. There’s a bead of moisture at the tip, and he swipes his finger over it. He spreads it around the tip, causing Dean to thrust his hips forward. His erection throbs visibly.

 

“I want more,” Castiel says earnestly. “Tell me what you want.”

 

Dean inhales sharply and bites his lip. “Careful, Cas,” he almost whines as he pulls Castiel’s hand off his cock, dangerously close to coming. Castiel moves his hands across the planes of Dean’s body. He closes his eyes and remembers the vessels and sinew he repaired years ago. Dean’s heartbeat is strong and fast against his palm. Their link surges with anticipation and arousal. When Castiel opens his eyes, Dean’s expression is unguarded, almost reverent. His wings arch forward to touch Castiel’s, and sparks shoot up his spine.

 

Dean kisses him. It starts slow then quickly becomes heated as their body press together. Castiel moans and rubs his cock against Dean’s. Dean growls and breaks the kiss to get on his knees. The look in his eyes as he gazes up Castiel has Castiel trembling.

 

“Dean,” Castiel whines, treading a hand through short, sandy brown locks. Dean smirks up at him and leans in, licking a stripe along the underside of Castiel’s dick. Castiel groans loudly. The first and last time he participated in intercourse with April didn’t involve _this_ , and he’s glad it didn’t. Dean sucks at the tip and kisses his way down a vein to the base of Castiel’s cock. Castiel’s trembling gets worse.

 

“Please,” he begs, touching Dean’s jaw gently. “It’s too much, Dean.” His erection throbs, purple and angry and he’s going to come too soon. Dean seems to understand.

 

“Yeah, we can take our time later,” Dean agrees, standing quickly and guiding Castiel to lie down. He climbs over him, careful not to brace his hands on Castiel’s wings lying outstretched on the bed. Castiel runs his hands up Dean’s flanks and back the base of his wings. Dean’s back is wet with oil, and Castiel covers his hands in them before bringing one hand down to Dean’s erection. Dean moans and lowers his hips so that his cock comes into contact with Castiel’s. Dean braces an elbow by Castiel’s head and wraps his hand around Castiel’s guiding him to take both of them in hand. Castiel gasps at the easy slide of Dean against him. Dean’s cock is thick and hot compared to his longer, slender dick. Deans kisses him slowly and pumps them at a slow pace. Castiel whines in the back of his throat and thrusts up. Dean nips at his lips in warning.

 

Castiel is too close to the edge and that’s all that it takes for him to topple over. He comes, shuddering and gasping into Dean’s mouth. He quickens his hand over them, drawing out his orgasm and urging Dean towards his. Dean isn’t too far behind and groans Castiel’s name when Castiel breaks the kiss to watch Dean’s come hit his abdomen and chest, dangerously close to his chin. Dean slumps, his wings lowering to encase them in a shroud of feathers. Castiel uses his other hand to groom some of the feathers. Dean whimpers and the wing twitches.

 

“Sensitive,” Dean mumbles into Castiel’s neck. Castiel chuckles. He knows.

 

Their bond is muted with post-coital bliss and contentment. Castiel could fall asleep to the feel of Dean’s heartbeat and soft breaths against his skin, but Dean moves after a few minutes. He gets up and searches the floor. He comes up with his t shirt and wipes his hand before folding it to clean Castiel’s torso. Their ejaculate cooled somewhat to it’s a little difficult to get completely off. There are streaks of white still on Castiel’s skin but he doesn’t care much at the moment.

 

“Come here, Dean,” he says. Dean looks at him and back at his shirt. He seems uncertain, but he crawls under the covers. Castiel gets in as well and tucks his wings against him as he lies on his side facing Dean. Dean does the same, and Castiel curls into Dean’s warmth as the hunter wraps an arm around his waist.

 

\--

 

When Castiel wakes, it’s to Dean watching him not six inches away. The open, affectionate expression is quickly replaced by an easy smile, and Castiel wants to call Dean’s previous thoughts to the forefront. He’s kept out of Dean’s thoughts for the better part of the year. He wants to know what the hunter is really thinking.

 

“Dean,” Castiel says.

 

“Heya, Cas,” Dean replies. He brings a hand up and it hesitates before settling on Castiel’s jaw. An inexplicable emotion courses through their bond, leaving Castiel winded, and Dean averts his eyes. “Geez, never knew I could get this worked up after sex.”

 

Castiel wants to say a million things at once, but the only words that come out are, “I love you, Dean.”

 

Dean looks at him, the green of his eyes stark against the red rims. There’s that pulse of intense emotion again, this time causing Castiel’s chest to ache. He’s not sure if its from him or Dean, though.

 

“I- I know,” Dean stutters, inhaling. “I feel the same way. I have for a while, but the things I said to you. I don’t deserve it, Cas. I’ve always known you loved me, in some way, and I was a coward.”

 

Castiel wipes the tear that slips from the corner of Dean’s eye, and feelings of regret and guilt bleed into him. Castiel isn’t sure of what he could say to reassure Dean that everything is just fine, that where they are right now is perfect, that he’d readily do it all again, endure worse, if the outcome is the same. Castiel’s love is freely given; Dean shouldn’t feel guilty for feeling the way he did about it. All that matters is what Dean wants now.

 

“I love you, Dean,” Castiel says again, cradling the hand against his face and kissing it. He lets his thoughts drift across their link, hoping that Dean can understand how he feels without the inadequacy of words. Dean pulls him in and crushes their lips together. He devours Castiel’s mouth, as if trying to gather the rest of his soul out of Castiel’s body. Castiel is breathless and dizzy, but Dean doesn’t stop. He gives Castiel a reprieve by rolling him onto his back and kissing down his neck. He leaves bruises in his wake, and his hands stroke down his side and across his hips. Castiel gets hard in less than a minute.

 

Dean prepares him slowly and when he enters him, the rest of the world fades away. There’s only Dean, cradling him close and thrusting in deep, agonizing strokes. He kisses Castiel almost reverently, and when he hits a spot that makes Castiel arch and groan, he keeps a steady pressure on it enough to keep him gasping but not enough to come. Dean does this for nearly an hour until Castiel, half mad with desire, begs Dean to give him release.

 

“I know,” Castiel says when Dean breaks their kiss to look into his eyes. “You love me too.”

 

Dean rears back and presses the back of Castiel’s knees up towards Castiel’s chest. The new angle causes Dean to surge in deeper, and Dean allows himself a smile before he starts fucking Castiel, hard and fast. Castiel sobs when he comes, cock untouched, all over his chin and neck. Dean thrusts a few more times before sinking in as far as he can go, a broken “Cas,” falling from his lips as he hits his climax.

 

Castiel wants another nap, but Dean keeps him awake by trying to wipe him down and kissing him. He can’t feel his legs and he’s pretty sure he’s having a heart attack. He tells Dean as much.

 

“I’m not that good, Cas,” he jokes, curling up to his side. He’s warm and solid against Castiel. After a moment, he leans up and shakes Castiel until his eyes open. He licks his lips and shifts nervously. “I… I love you too, Cas,” he says and quickly resumes his form position. Castiel lied. _Now_ he’s having a heart attack.

 

\--

 

When they emerge from the bathroom hours later Sam is in the library along with a redheaded young woman. She looks up and brightens at the sight of Dean. Her eyes alight on Castiel and she waggles her eyebrows at the older Winchester. Dean rolls his eyes when she gets up to give him a hug.

 

“Lookin’ good, Dean!” she says, clapping him on the shoulder after they hug. Sam snorts in amusement. She turns to Castiel.

 

“I’m Charlie. Nice to finally meet you, Cas.” Castiel extends his hand but she hugs him, smelling of candy. He tentatively wraps his arms around her. After having embraced Dean for the past day or so, she feels too small in his arms.

 

“Nice to meet you too, Charlie,” Castiel says when they pull apart.

 

“Same here, Mr. Drea- Ow!” Charlie glares at Dean. “What’dja pull my hair for?”

 

“You’ve been MIA for a while,” Dean says, ignoring her demand with a smile. “Why don’t you fill us in on what’s happened?” Her expression changes to one of absolute delight, and she guides him and Castiel to take a seat at the table. Sam closes his laptop and they all lean in close as Charlie begins with her stepping onto the Yellow Brick Road. Castiel puts his arms on the table, and Dean does the same, leaning back so that it touches Castiel’s. Sam notices this and catches Castiel’s eye. He smiles, the warmth reaching his eyes, and Castiel wants to tell Sam that he will take care of Dean because he loves him, and Dean will let him because he loves him, too.

 

But he has a feeling that Sam already knows.

 

 

 

 


End file.
